


Like an Hourglass

by Ribbonsflying



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Blow Jobs, Car Accidents, M/M, Memory Loss, Moving, No Beta, Recovery, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, mentions of Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, we die like mne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:40:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29714541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ribbonsflying/pseuds/Ribbonsflying
Summary: Steve has a private blog set up where he posts the pictures and makes memos of the things that happened every day.Sometimes it's an exercise for Bucky too."What do you want to put on the blog tonight?" Steve asks, just to see what Bucky can remember from the day.Sometimes Bucky can remember significant things from that morning... Other times, Bucky can't remember much past the previous few hours- unable to recall anything before dinner time or unable to tell Steve what they had for lunch."I don't remember," always on his tongue.(Based on a client we had at the law firm where I used to work.)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 16
Kudos: 68
Collections: BBB Special Events





	Like an Hourglass

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KOranges](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KOranges/gifts).



> For the Bucky Barnes Flash Bingo prompt: Memories. 
> 
> This story is based on the prompt "You can." It was from a prompt exchange between myself and [KOranges](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KOranges). The memory loss and recovery (or lack thereof) is heavily based on a true story involving a client from the law firm where I used to work. No identifying details for the client are in the story, but little moments here and there are stolen from their life. The conversations had with Bucky here are very similar to the conversations that were had with this client in the four years we had their case. 
> 
> This story became a lot harder to write when my own grandmother had a stroke that left her with a very similar memory loss and therefore, this standalone was written off and on (when I could handle it) over the course of three years.

"I don't remember," Bucky says with a small smile and deflects the question with a light laugh and shrug. Bucky wishes he could remember how many times a day he says that same sentence. He knows it’s a lot. 

Steve's counted before, he guesses. He doesn't know for sure, doesn't remember.

"Where did you go for vacation?" Dr. Palmer asks as she scribbles something across a tablet using her smart pen. Bucky seems focused on the pen.

"Uuuhh," he smiles again, friendly. "The beach."

Dr. Palmer smiles back, soft, encouraging.

"Do you know where the beach was?"

Bucky shakes his head. He seems perfectly content to answer again with a simple shrug and, "I don't remember."

Dr. Palmer is trying not to lead him with any of her questions when she asks, "Was the beach sandy? Rocky? Did it have anyone surfing or sailing? Could you go swimming? Do you remember?"

Bucky perks up. "It was Florida. We couldn't go swimming. There were sharks."

Dr. Palmer grins as she writes. "Were you scared of the sharks?"

Bucky shakes his head like she's being ridiculous. "No, they were in the water. But there were signs that said not to go swimming when we were there. Someone was attacked the day before we got there. It was on the news."

"So what did you do instead?"

Bucky thinks for a minute, the silence dragging out between them before replying, "I don't remember."

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

"Hey, Steve! Hey, Bucky!" the man says as he approaches their table at Stanley's Pizza. He covers his name tag and asks Bucky playfully, "What's my name?"

"You're Clint. I know because Steve always says, 'Let's go see Clint and eat pizza.'"

Clint laughs and drops his hand from his name tag.

"Do I like their manicotti?" Bucky asks Steve kind of quietly.

"You love our manicotti," Clint answers.

"Which is a fucking insult to Stanley's really because they're an amazing pizzeria and half the time you don't even order pizza," Steve supplies and looks put off by it even though Bucky can tell he's really not.

Steve folds the menu closed. He always glances over it mostly to give Bucky time to look over his own. He knows what he wants every time.

"Personal size veggie pizza please, Clint. Hand tossed," he says as he passes the menu to him.

"Ugh. At least I order real food. You order veggie pizza? That's disgusting."

"I'm a vegetarian, Bucky. It's what we do."

Now it's Bucky's turn to look put off so he flips back in the menu and says, "And one slice of the Mega Meaty. Thanks."

For a moment, it looks like Steve will argue with him, but then he just turns to their server and says jovially, "So the usual today, it seems, Clint."

Bucky won't remember this exchange again in three or four days when they come back here, but at least he's finally to a point where he remembers Clint's name.

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

"How does your arm feel right now?" Shuri asks as she examines the scarring around Bucky's prosthesis. 

Bucky seems to evaluate the question and situation for a longer time than most would. "It doesn't hurt. It used to hurt."

Bucky usually remembers extremes. He remembers waking up crying out because the arm hurt so badly and Steve calling Shuri and Tony’s lab in a panic at 4am. It had happened numerous times so they're grateful Tony’s a workaholic and an insomniac. It may not work in Tony's favour, but it works in Bucky's.

"Can you move each finger individually for me?" Shuri asks and brings her hand up to demonstrate.

Bucky repeats the motions with his cybernetic hand and Shuri appears appeased.

"How's your sleep going?"

"I sleep okay," Bucky answers and Tony peeks through his field of screens to verify with Steve. Steve nods minutely back at him.

Sometimes in these matters, the doctors and scientists rely more on Steve's answers than Bucky's. Bucky's answers are based only on what he can remember, but Steve remembers everything. 

"I have to," he told the nurse Sharon one time as he'd quickly typed a moment into his phone. "Somebody has to remember for him."

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

Steve snaps pictures for them at every turn. He has a private blog set up where he posts the pictures and makes memos of the things that happened every day.

Sometimes it's an exercise for Bucky too.

"What do you want to put on the blog tonight?" Steve asks, just to see what Bucky can remember from the day.

Sometimes Bucky can remember significant things from that morning- Sam went to the gym with them or Steve made pancakes and flipped them from the pan onto their plates like he was a professional chef. (He remembers their laughter more than the food itself.) Other times, Bucky can't remember much past the previous few hours- unable to recall anything before dinner time or unable to tell Steve what they had for lunch. 

"I don't remember," always on his tongue.

Steve doesn't press him. Doesn't say, "Try harder," or "You sure you can't remember?" or "Just think about it."

Bucky remembers enough to remember that his mind is broken, that he usually can't retrieve a memory no matter how hard he strives for it.

Stephen Strange, the neurologist who had originally helped Bucky, had saved his life really. But too much damage had been done to heal his mind completely and Dr. Strange did the best he could. It was the best anyone could have done given Bucky’s circumstances.

"He remembers you," Dr. Strange had told Steve. "He remembers his family, close friends, where you live. He remembers the long term memories. But his brain will have trouble forming short term ones. Either they'll take excessive repetition to become long term memories or they'll never form and be lost. Your best option is to make sure he's aware of his condition, let him know it's okay to ask questions, and to have a hell of a lot of patience."

And Dr. Strange had been right about the questions. Bucky has memorized that there's something messed up with the wires in his brain, that they don't connect where they used to. It still sometimes frustrates him when he has to ask Steve things he knows he should recall.

"Where are the Band-Aids?"

"Cabinet under the bathroom sink."

"Do we have spare lightbulbs somewhere?"

"Shelf over the washer and dryer."

"What's the name of Wanda's twins again?"

"William and Thomas."

"Will you tell me which teas I like?"

And Steve hooks his chin over Bucky's shoulder and wrap his arms around his middle and looks at the teas in front of them on the counter. 

"You like Yerba mate or earl grey in the morning. You like black or raspberry with lunch, chamomile usually before bed. Occasionally you'll drink valerian. Do not under any circumstances drink my spearmint tea again. You do not like it and you waste my favourite."

"Or maybe you're just telling me I don't like it so you don't have to share," Bucky muses and Steve squawks. 

"That's what you always say! Stop it!" he squeezes his arms tightly around Bucky so that his husband can't move. "You can taste mine to see for yourself, but do not ever ever ever drink my tea, you ass."

Bucky squirms, but Steve doesn't let up. 

"Hey Steve?" 

"Hmm?" Steve answers. His nose is buried in Bucky's neck.

"You know I'm not gonna remember you saying that next time, right?" 

And Steve doesn't deflate or let go or anything, just breathes in the smell of Bucky and mumbles into his skin, "I will have no problem threatening you again."

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

It's been almost three years since the phone rang and a cautious voice told Steve about the accident.

He hadn't even known Bucky was stateside.

It was a little after midnight, clear skies, warm weather and Bucky had intentionally not told Steve he was getting to come home. It was almost their anniversary. It was supposed to be a surprise.

A little after midnight, Bucky Barnes had climbed into a cab, told the driver his address, and buckled his seatbelt. He closed his eyes for a catnap as they made their way down dark roads the forty-five minutes from JFK to the apartment he shared with Steve in Red Hook. He figured he should try to get some sleep then because he planned on staying up with his husband tonight as long their bodies would let them.

He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes then and didn't open them again for two months. 

The cab driver had been driving along perfectly alert, both he and Bucky had their seat belts on, going the proper speed limit, right side of the road, following traffic signs, doing everything they were supposed to do. 

The driver that had hit them had come from a bar, driving nearly three times the speed limit and intoxicated over three times the legal limit. He'd crossed the yellow line and didn't even sustain a concussion. He'd pulled himself from the wreckage and was crawling away because he'd been too drunk to stand which originally had caused paramedics to assume he was injured, but they could smell otherwise once they'd gotten closer.

They'd been unable to get the cab driver or Bucky from the car. It had crunched around them and they'd called the coroner after only a few minutes.

There isn't a day that goes by that Steve doesn't think about the 9-1-1 call placed by a by-passer. The boy that called had been young and panicked. Steve's heart broke when they let him hear the recording.

 _"There's been an accident. It's really bad. It’s really, really bad. I went to try to help, but the dash is all crushed into the driver's body. I can't get him. I don't think he's alive."_ The caller had been somewhere between crying and hyperventilating. _"There's- there's someone else in the car. They're gonna have to cut them out. Oh god, hurry. I don't think they're alive."_

The young man had been so upset on the phone that he'd thrown up and later had to be removed from the scene when paramedics arrived, but Steve thought of him as one of the human angels that had blessed his life. His mother used to say not to waste time waiting for supernatural miracles and instead search for people who act as human angels and do incredible things when it's easier to do anything else. Steve had met the young man who had made the call- a high schooler named Peter- and knew how much the trauma had impacted him so Steve was grateful for everything he had done for them.

It had been nearly an hour before the fire department had cut away enough of the metal to see Bucky was still alive and the coroner had been the one to do the emergency tracheotomy to help Bucky to breathe. They rushed him to the nearest hospital, stabilized him, and airlifted him to Dr. Stephen Strange. 

He was in a medically induced coma for two months- lost his arm and had metal beams and pins and screws replacing or holding together much of the rest of him. He'd had eighteen surgeries since the accident. The first eleven of which he hadn't even been aware of. Steve had signed so many consent forms he'd lost track. He'd cried more than he had even when his mother had died. And he had only left the hospital when the nurses pushed him out to go home and rest or shower. Usually, he even did those things at the hospital.

Some of Bucky's military friends had come by to check on him. Bucky's sister, Rebecca, had stayed many days with Steve sitting in waiting rooms and beside hospital beds- mostly they took turns holding one another and crying.

Slowly, they watched Bucky's status go from brain dead and not expected to live through the night to unstable and high risk, to stable with noted improved brain activity, to awake and unable to speak or recall even his own name, to well, eventually being able to stand in front of Steve and ask which tea he liked. 

Steve is willing to have the same conversation every day for the rest of their lives if that's what it takes.

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

There are some situations where Steve finds it easier to write notes. There is a note in the bathroom, stuck to the toothbrush holder that just says, "Steve- Teal, Bucky- Orange" and Steve switches it out every few months along with the new toothbrushes. 

There are a pair of notes in the walk-in closet that label which side of the closet holds Steve's wardrobe and which side holds Bucky's. Occasionally Steve still catches Bucky wearing his things, but it is usually intentional so he takes comfort knowing Bucky intentionally ignores the signs. Old Bucky would have always intentionally gone against the signs too.

"The neighbor's cat is named Chewie," a note reads next to the balcony door. Sometimes Bucky forgets the cat's name before the thing ever comes to meow at him through the bars, forgets there is even a note to remind him and he sees it again when he comes inside and feels like a failure for not retaining some information any longer than he does.

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

"It isn't like amnesia," Dr. Strange had told Steve, and later Bucky. "Recent memories aren't locked behind some wall. The ability to ever form them has been nearly severed. The memories aren't there to begin with. The brain never made them."

"It isn't like Alzheimer's," Dr. Palmer had assured them. "The information that's remembered is there to stay. There won't come a day when close family or friends are just forgotten. You don't have to worry about that."

"The memories aren't coming back and they aren't going away," Bucky murmurs mostly to himself as he flips through a book Steve had made him probably two years ago. It contains newspaper clippings of the accident and bits of medical records from the doctors. Whenever Bucky gets frustrated with himself, Steve reminds him of everything that had happened before and how he's really defied the odds just being as well as he is. 

"I'm sorry I forget all the time and-"

"Ah-" Steve looks over from the sofa and cuts him off. He points to a little note he had taken the extra effort to frame and set on the coffee table. 

**NO  
APOLOGIZING  
FOR NOT  
REMEMBERING.**

"Can't believe I married someone this crazy," Bucky says with a shake of his head. "Why did I do that?"

"Hey, you proposed," Steve reminds. "It was all your idea and now you're stuck with me."

"Yeah, I know," he laughs and closes the book. "Guess I knew I would need someone to make me framed reminders of shit one day," Bucky says with a shrug. 

"Hey Pal," Steve argues, "You are the only person in this world I would make framed reminders for. You should consider yourself lucky."

Bucky rolls his eyes and stands up, cupping Steve's stupid face and planting a kiss right on his lips. 

"I am lucky," Bucky says with a smirk before turning and sauntering off down the hallway. 

"Where you going?"

"I'm going to take a piss. Is that cool with you?" Bucky calls back. 

"I don't know. Do you remember how to flush the toilet? It's that silver handle on the-"

"Rogers, I will piss in your shoes if you don't shut up!"

“You don’t know which ones are mine!”

“Our shoes are different sizes!” Bucky laughs.

Steve laughs too and realizes how honest he is when he says Bucky is the only person he would do this for. He is sure he'd rather remind Bucky of the same things every day than have a normal life with anyone else on the planet.

When Bucky returns from the bathroom, Steve's eyes are closed and he's leaning over a bit where he's sitting on the sofa.

Bucky uses the opportunity to stick his still-wet-from-washing hands on Steve's neck and make him jerk back to full awareness.

"Asshole!" Steve laughs and grabs at Bucky, pulling him down onto the sofa with him.

Bucky lets himself fall easily, drying his hands on Steve's shirt before pulling it off over his head and going for his belt.

Steve lets him get his jeans off his legs before tugging at Bucky's shirt in return. Bucky raises his arms, lets Steve pull the shirt off and then pull his hair tie free. His hair's a mess and Steve could not possibly care less.

Bucky doesn't let Steve make it to his sweatpants before he reaches back down, jerks at Steve's underwear and gets them down his thighs. He pauses and gives his husband a look that seems to suggest Bucky could eat him alive. 

"Ah," he speaks, his voice full of mischief as he peers down at Steve's cock, "I just remembered why I married you." 

Steve would laugh and call him a name, but Bucky practically dives down and takes Steve's length into his mouth and so he just grabs a handful of hair in one hand and puts the other on Bucky's bare shoulder where the prosthetic meets flesh.

Steve doesn't pay a lot of attention to the scars covering his husband these days. There had been a time when he was more careful, but by now he knows which ones are sensitive and which ones aren't and he knows precisely where each one is- where it starts and stops and whether it was caused by the accident or a later procedure. He knows the few that were there before everything else.

Bucky works contently, the only sounds he makes are wet noises around Steve's length, and Steve grips his hair in one hand and shoulder in the other, rubs his fingers diligently into the skin under his hand. It's good, comfortable, and he wishes he could put this on their blog. Later, they'll both be littered with bruises- fingertips on hip bones, bite marks on shoulders and thighs. 

At first, even after Bucky's body had recovered from the accident, Steve wouldn't touch him. They'd gotten into some fights about it- ones that resulted in Bucky saying things he didn't mean and Steve crying in anguish and frustration. After one bad morning, Bucky had bitched about it to Dr. Palmer who wasn't a sex therapist by any means, but who had dealt with Steve enough to know what was going on. 

"He _is_ consenting," she had told Steve. "You're not taking advantage of him. He may not remember it happening the next day, but in that moment, he knows you and he wants you."

So that night Steve had held him and made love to him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered because, well, to Steve, he was.

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

"I got my hair cut this morning and Steve keeps smirking at me. He's planning to point and laugh when I don't remember doing it tomorrow," Bucky grinned into the webcam.

"Can't wait to see your reaction when you look in the mirror," Steve confirms.

"Maybe you should record that too and then just show me these videos."

"Maybe I should."

Steve reaches for Bucky's hair and run his fingers through the newly shortened locks there.

"Truth be told," Bucky stage whispers to the camera, "I already don't remember getting it cut. But we've been talking about it all day so I know it happened."

"Do you remember who went to breakfast with us this morning?" Steve asks, voice casual and easy. 

"Sam," Bucky answers without hesitation and Steve just shakes his head. 

"We got haircuts after breakfast."

Bucky frowns immensely. "Please don't tell Sam I remember him before my own hair. I have beautiful hair."

 _"Had,"_ Steve corrects and Bucky makes a pained face as he looks at himself on the screen.

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

“These two guys get together, right?” Bucky asks as he watches _The Force Awakens._ He remembers the old _Star Wars_ films without fail, but the newer ones never stick.

“Nope,” Steve replies and he looks maybe a little bitter about it.

“All three of them get together then, right?” Bucky amends and Steve laughs.

“I don’t think Hollywood’s gotten that progressive yet, Buck.”

“But they will in a later episode, right?”

“I kind of think they’re done with them, but here’s to hoping,” Steve laughs and tilts his mug toward the nearly empty beer in Bucky’s hand.

Steve clinks his mug to the bottle and stands up to take his and Bucky’s plates back over to the kitchen area. 

“You want tea?”

“Can I have another one of these?” Bucky asks, holding up his beer, but not taking his eyes from the TV.

“You can have-“ Steve sets the plates down and opens the fridge, “three more if that’s what you want.”

“Just one.”

Steve grabs it and pops the cap off, taking it over to his husband. Bucky stopped complaining ages ago about having to drink nonalcoholic beer. His doctors had warned him of the dangers of even a small amount of alcohol with the medications he was on and so in response to that, Steve had cleared the house of every beer, wine, champagne, vodka, or whiskey. And replaced them with a few nonalcoholic versions to satiate desires. A few Bucky had taken a liking to and so those had became regular staples on the grocery list.

“When this movie’s over, you wanna go for a run?”

“You’re let me fill my body with food and beer and then ask me to run?”

“This movie has almost two hours left, Buck.”

“I’ll think about it,” Bucky says narrowing his eyes at Steve suspiciously like he fully expects Steve to try to bribe him into doing something terrible like exercising.

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

They didn’t make it out of the house that night. Bucky fell asleep on the sofa before the movie ended and Steve turned off the television and hid the film in the back of the desk drawer with information for their taxes.

He’ll drag it back out in a few months when he’s okay watching it again.

This time, Steve just removes _Skyfall_ and the live action _Jungle Book,_ and debates removing one of the Bourne films but ultimately decides he’s not ready to watch that one again yet. 

He always tucks the films away after they watch them. He feels a little guilty about it, but with Bucky’s mind unable to cement memories, he remembers very few films that they’ve watched so Steve has to hide them for his own sanity. There’s no way he could watch _The Man from U.N.C.L.E._ three times a week no matter how attractive all of the leading actors may be. He has to hide them to keep from prying them of out Bucky’s hands and/or breaking down and crying when Bucky says he wants to watch them (...again ...and again).

It’s not Bucky’s fault he doesn’t remember them. Steve just hides them away for a month or two to keep them both happy with the content they’re viewing.

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

The army still sends Bucky a check and Steve now does almost all of his marketing work from home, but the income they make these days is less than it used to be so finally after three years and seeing their bank account getting smaller and smaller Steve has one good conversation with Bucky and they agree that instead of renewing their lease, it’s time to move to a smaller place. It won’t matter if they have a balcony or if there’s a weight room upstairs or if there’s a bodega with fresh bagels directly next door. 

Steve’s aware Bucky won’t remember the conversation later so he pulls up both their laptops and and he and Bucky sit at the island in the kitchen and look at apartments. 

Steve has a few requirements and Bucky has a few things he Does. Not. Want. so they write down the must haves and the deal breakers on a piece of paper placed between them and go to work. 

Bucky finds a good looking place in Bed-Stuy and another good looking one in Vinegar Hill. Steve finds one they like in Gravesend and so they call each place and make plans to see the apartments the next day. 

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

“Are you prepared to explain the finances and the new home to him until it sticks?” Sharon asks as Steve waits on Bucky to get finished with his doctor’s appointment. 

“I’ve made peace with it. We’re going to be closer to his sister. His attorney even arranged a moving truck for us.”

“Matt’s a good guy.”

“Mr. Nelson, I meant,” Steve clarifies. “But Bucky keeps walking into the apartment and seeing all the boxes and I just see this bewildered look on his face and have to remind him every time. Some days it upsets him.”

“How long have you lived there?” Sharon asks gently. 

“Since we got engaged so ...right at ten years now.”

“So he remembers being there before the accident.”

“Yeah. That’s what the breakdowns are about on the days he can’t handle it. He doesn’t want to leave what he remembers. He’s upset he won’t be able to remember anything that happens at the new place. And he’s afraid he won’t know where things are- And he doesn’t know some of that already, but some things he’s retained from before- like our hot and cold water handles in the shower are backwards and he instinctually remembers that every time. He’s afraid he’ll never remember little quirks like that about a new place. And I understand that fear. And I can’t promise him it won’t happen. But we still can’t stay where we are.”

Sharon reaches out and puts a hand on Steve’s arm. 

“You’ll figure it out. And he may be upset, but ultimately, you’re going to be there and so he’ll be okay. And yeah, it may take weeks, months, maybe years, but he’ll form some memories of the new place. And he’ll be comfortable there.”

Steve takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly as he looks to the ceiling as if asking for strength, but all he says is,

“Yeah, I know.”

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

Moving day results in the biggest meltdown Bucky has had in possibly two years. Everything is packed and the moving truck is on its way to the new place, but Bucky is sobbing on the floor of their now empty living room while Steve holds him and tries not to feel like the worst person to ever exist.

“We can’t leave,” Bucky sobs, not evening bothering to wipe at his eyes. “I’ll forget this place. I’ll forget it and I’ll never feel at home somewhere else.”

Steve rubs at his shoulder gently. 

“You don’t forget your old memories, Bucky. You won’t forget here. And even if you forget something small, we’ll have pictures and videos to remind you.”

“I don’t even remember any new place,” he cries. “I don’t know why we have to leave here.”

And that’s what the hardest part is, Steve knows. He’s mentally prepared for this day for weeks. To Bucky, it was sprang on him this morning when he woke up to an empty house and even the smallest comforts had been stripped away.

“This is our home.”

“Our home is wherever we are together,” Steve assures.

“Is it my fault?” 

“Why would it be your fault? No, Bucky. We are moving because the rent here keeps going up and our income doesn’t go up with it.“

Bucky’s whole body shakes while he cries into the carpet and Steve just rubs at his back and side for over two hours until Bucky is drained and defeated and gets up with the heaviest of hearts and allows Steve to lead him to the car.

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

They’re in the new apartment for about seven months when one day Steve and Bucky come home from lunch, get on the elevator, and Bucky presses the button for the ninth floor before asking Steve something about the Yankees game that night.

Steve’s heart leaps. Bucky almost never remembers the floor number and then all of a sudden, he remembers the correct floor and that Steve and Tony had discussed the Yankees game that was going to be taking place that evening.

For no reason other than that he’s happy, Steve pulls out his phone, leans in, and snaps a picture of him and Bucky making smug faces at the screen.

He talks to Bucky about the game and watches as the man goes the right direction down the hallway, but then waits on Steve’s lead. He doesn’t remember the apartment number or which door is theirs. Steve doesn’t mind. His heart doesn’t fall or anything. Bucky just did some crazy mind tricks on the elevator and Steve’s on too much of a high to be brought down now.

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

And the weird thing is that over the next several months, Bucky keeps doing it. Little things that he normally would have forgotten, the memories never having stored away in the first place, suddenly keep popping up in conversation. 

“In the place where the lost things go,” Bucky answers with a playful eye roll when Steve asks him where he’d found the hair tie in his hair. His hair is finally getting long enough to tie up again and he is delighted. He definitely never forgot having longer hair.

“Did you just make a reference?”

“Yeah, that’s that _Mary Poppins_ movie, remember? The one where she was played by someone who most definitely wasn’t Julie Andrews.”

“Don’t sound so bitter, Bucky. Julie Andrews is a good bit older than she was in the sixties. You remember that?” Steve asks again. 

“Yeah, obviously,” Bucky laughs. “Stop acting so surprised. You remember things all the time.” 

“But Bucky,” Steve rolls onto his side on the bed and looks at him. “You don’t remember things. Especially not small things like a song in a movie we watched almost a week ago.” 

Bucky smiles a hesitant little smile, like maybe he‘s proud of himself but trying not to show it. 

“Well, this time is different,” he says almost shyly before looking back at his phone. 

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

“Why don’t you program ‘home’ into your phone and tell it this address?” Steve asks as Bucky sits at the desk Steve uses for work and looks at the settings on his phone. They used to have a desk for Steve’s work and a desk for Bucky to play around with his laptop and explore NASA videos, watch live feeds from cameras all over the world, and try to beat Sporcle quizzes all without bothering Steve. Now, with the downsized apartment, they share a desk so Bucky usually uses his laptop while sitting on the bed. 

“Do you wanna remind me of the address?” Bucky asks before opening his notes app. “No. Wait. I think I got it. Leaman Place?” 

“Yep.” Steve doesn’t say so, but he’s proud Bucky thought to check his notes. When he had started remembering he had a new address a few months ago, it had initially been followed every time with the feeling of panic as he asked Steve repeatedly what would happen if he couldn’t remember where they lived and he really needed to. 

“If something happens and I can’t help, call your sister or Natasha or Sam.” Steve had reminded gently every time. “They know the address; I gave it to them. They can help.” 

“I want to make a note,” he said multiple times and he did the first time and found it the following times and it had helped alleviate those qualms. 

Steve watches him set up the information in his phone before he motions Bucky over to come sit beside him on the end of the bed. 

“Okay, I want to tell you what this is because I don’t want to have any secrets from you or for you to find out and feel like I’m trying to hide something from you.” 

Steve holds a velvet black case in his palm and he opens it and displays it where Bucky can see the pewter bracelet inside. He and Bucky had looked at bracelets over a month before, but Bucky hadn’t remembered it the next day. 

Steve takes the bracelet out and flips it so that Bucky can see the engraved words on the back of the links: 

_Always Remember I Love You -SGR_

“This is really sappy,” Bucky teases, but he reaches for the bracelet nonetheless. “But I really like the design.” 

“You picked it out,” Steve says with a small smile. “It has a small GPS unit in it. So you can never get too lost.” 

He points out where it’s housed in the back of one of the links. 

“You think I’m going to get lost?” Bucky asks. His brow furrows and he looks mildly panicked. “Did I get lost and I don’t remember?” 

“No, no,” Steve assures. “But I don’t know that I’ll always be there beside you so it’s a precautionary measure.” 

“Am I forgetting more?” he asks sadly, almost guiltily. 

“The opposite,” Steve replies and Bucky notices the emotion suddenly in his voice. “The exact opposite, Buck. You’ve been doing incredibly well." 

It’s obvious Bucky doesn’t understand. 

“It’s the opposite. You’ve been doing so well for months.” 

Steve reaches out and takes Bucky’s hands, including the one holding the bracelet. 

Bucky doesn’t understand and he’s grinning trying to just bite his tongue and let Steve explain himself. 

“I can make more money for us if I meet with clients. It won’t be every day and it won’t be for terribly long, but it will considerably help us.” 

Bucky nods. 

“And I don’t want you to feel trapped here. We are just blocks away from tons of magnificent places.” 

“This area is boring,” Bucky reminds and Steve doesn’t even mind because he’s glad Bucky recalls the area. 

“You don’t have to fully rely on me, Bucky. You have a short term memory problem and you have some difficulty because of that, but you know what you don’t have?” 

“Prosthetic legs?” 

Steve rolls his eyes, “Any reason to let me or your memory hold you back,” he corrects. “You are doing so well that when we have been visiting the lab for them to keep checks on you, they don’t think there is any reason you shouldn’t be able to go and explore some. Your sister knows so we are going to start with letting you hang out with her and then just come home by yourself one day. It’s a short train ride so that seems best. But you know the area where she lives, you know how the trains work, you know how to call or read maps if you need help. You know how to manage your own debit card and your own metro card. You can order yourself food or make yourself food. You don’t need someone to hold your hand for daily routine things like getting ready each morning or checking the weather and dressing appropriately. So this is just an experiment, but’s it’s a good start, Buck.” 

Bucky takes it all in, but what he asks is, “Have I been holding you back a lot?” 

“Not a lot,” Steve answers softly. “But until we win your case, we need all the money we can get. You’re expensive.” 

Bucky nods. 

“I’ve always been expensive. I like nice things and to order dessert.” 

Steve snickers. “You’re right about that.” He ducks and plants a kiss on Bucky’s jaw. “But you’ve always been worth it.” 

“We have a case? Against the person who did this?” he holds up his metallic arm. 

“We do, but it’s been ongoing for a few years now so in the meantime, someone’s gotta work for a living.” 

“I could work,” Bucky offers. “I could do something.” 

Steve nods. He knows Bucky probably could hold down a simple job. He could work at Stanley’s sticking mozzarella all over someone’s hand tossed supreme. He could. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, “But the army sends you a check every month and they aren’t going to keep sending it if you get a job.” 

“It’s a lot?” 

“It’s very helpful.” 

Bucky sits there a second, just turning the bracelet over in his hands and then asks without lifting his eyes, “Am I going to be this way forever?” 

Steve’s heard it before so he doesn’t let it get him down like it used to. In fact, his answer now is better than the sad confirmation he used to offer. 

“Well, you know, Buck,” he says and Bucky extends his wrist and holds out the bracelet so Steve takes it to fasten in place. “They told me you’d die at first, that you’d never wake up in the hospital. Then they told me you’d likely be brain dead. Then that you’d be feeble-minded, childlike. They told me after that that you’d never walk again, talk again. They said you’d need me for everything. And then they said you’d need a walker forever. They said later that you’d never remember things beyond a few minutes. Then they extended that to a few hours. Then they extended that to a few days. But last week, you asked me about a hat you bought exactly a month ago. So Bucky, I don’t think I can answer that question anymore. I think the only thing that is certain is that you have defied the odds time and time again. And I see no reason you’ll stop now.” 

Bucky holds up his wrist with the new bracelet on it. 

“But just in case?” he asks with a grin. 

“Yeah, just in case,” Steve smiles back and agrees. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the hopeful ending is also true. Our client was never expected to reach a point where they could be on their own and then over five years after the accident, began to show signs of improvement that no doctor expected or could explain.


End file.
